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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974872">doctor, i cant tell if im not me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyfortissimo/pseuds/dizzyfortissimo'>dizzyfortissimo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Electrocution, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Stan Pines is a Good Brother, TLDR bill cipher fucked up fords ability to be a human, Tasers, Trauma, Trauma Bonding, but. Ford Pines has PTSD., i wanted to see if Ford Pines Has PTSD was a common tag but apparently not, you dont see the Act but thats what its About so its very present.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyfortissimo/pseuds/dizzyfortissimo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>// See how the brain plays around<br/>And you fall inside a hole you couldn't see //</p><p>stanford pines just wants to feel something. stanley pines just wants his brother to go easy on himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billford (past) (implied), Ford Pines &amp; Stan Pines, im not tagging it bc its not rlly There and i dont want ppl scanning the tag to be fooled</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>doctor, i cant tell if im not me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not really sure how to preface this. Hello, everyone who is reading!<br/>As you all can tell, this is the first work up on my alternate account (Please check the profile for more info on both that and my main!) It is 100% a ventfic; I was given the writing prompt "it helps to take away the pain", and wrote the fic i didnt even realize i needed to read tonight.</p><p>the TLDR for the triggering patterns in this fic; Bill Cipher fucked up fords ability to be a human being. Please mind the tags. Self-Harm, psychological guilt, and a whole lot of trauma bonding. DDDNE.</p><p>Written in second person (sorry!) from Stan's POV.<br/>[[DOES NOT CONTAIN INCEST//STANCEST//STAN X FORD. DO NOT TAG AS INCEST//STANCEST//STAN X FORD.]]</p><p>[title &amp; desc. from The Mind Electric. how fitting.]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, Sixer? Where’d you get this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’ve seen enough shit in your life to know that tasers are something you should probably be worried about. Enough hours of pissing off the wrong people, hiding in dark alleyways, and buying bottles of Aloe Vera at half past 3 was enough to give you a sour taste in your mouth at the sight of the thing--indistinguishable--in your brother’s drawer. You’re sure it’s nothing, maybe just something used to test “““““particle acceleration””””” or whatever the fuck, but you just want to be sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ford’s face goes white as a sheet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he lunges for you, a show of violence and desperation you don’t think you’ve seen from him in a very long time, if ever. “Don’t TOUCH that!” He cries out. It sounds animalistic. He grabs it from you, shoves it back in your shared supply drawer, and slams it closed loud enough to rock the dresser, then sits on your bunk, pulling his knees to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not science, then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright, I won’t.” You concede, giving him this. He doesn’t always like to talk about the things that bother him, so you don’t push too hard. He always comes around soon enough, the way he did about the snapping, and the lightning, and the---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And---the---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your voice is very soft, all of a sudden. Very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>soft. Barely audible. You try to repeat yourself louder, but even the one word comes out a little slurred, your mind a dizzy haze doing loop-de-loops. There is </span>
  <em>
    <span>no way</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have missed this. No way this went under your nose. No way you are that idiotic, that you fail to pay attention to your brother to that degree. There’s just no--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you dare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ford’s voice is unusually dark, and he is staring at the floorboards hard enough to burn a hole in them. “You’re the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m a freak.” He shuts his eyes tight and chokes back a sob, and something in your heart dies then and there. “I know I’m a freak, Stanley. You don’t have to look at me like I’m one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re a freak.” Your voice isn’t coming out right. It’s scratchy and hoarse. “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a freak.” You try again, moving to sit with him on the bed. “You’re not a freak, don’t you ever say that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just want to feel something!” Ford is yelling, suddenly, sobbing. “I feel nothing at all anymore. The only time in my life I’ve ever felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>is with Him! I can’t get over it, Stanley.” He sobs, grabbing your sleeves like you’re kids again and hanging on tight. “I don’t know what I’m doing to myself. I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why, even! </span>
  </em>
  <span>It just--it helps to take away the pain, Stanley, it makes me </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>something and nothing else </span>
  <em>
    <span>does, </span>
  </em>
  <span>anymore!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’ve been rubbing his back the whole time, and there is an ache inside you that is going to chip away at you so hard there will be nothing left. “Okay,” You say softly, like it’s okay. “It’s alright.” You say softly, like it’s alright. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you want to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is all my fault, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you actually mean. But you say neither of those things, because you don’t want to start an argument.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my piss-poor way of not missing Him.” He says with a laugh (the bitter kind), turning his head towards the ceiling. “Keep the pain on instant replay enough, I’ll block out the fact that I loved Him, once.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I see?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the wrong choice, and you want to physically kick yourself for saying it, but after a moment of silence Ford nods and rolls up one of the sleeves of his sweater. You were expecting to have to look hard, but you don’t have to, not at all; there are deep red marks trailing up the skin of his arms, and you suck in a breath through your teeth. “God, Stanford.” You mutter, cradling this arm close to your chest. “Go easy on yourself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anyone standing a whole five feet away from you would not be able to hear how softly you whispered that, but he does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That didn’t seem to be working out very well for this freak.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a freak.” You struggle to explain this, as you have never been where he is, as you do not and could never know, but you know that. You know that much with clearer certainty than anything you’ve ever known. “I can’t even--</span>
  <em>
    <span>imagine </span>
  </em>
  <span>the shit you’ve seen, Stanford. You need help.” Your voice cracks, then, and you can’t stop your own eyes from getting wet. “You need more help than I know how to give you, Stanford, and I’m sorry, but it’s true. I’m sorry I can’t be enough for you.” Because if you knew what to do, this never would have happened. If you knew how to handle this, how to be a better brother, Ford wouldn’t have to do this to feel worthwhile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course you’re enough for me.” Ford mutters, voice wavering as he yanks his sleeve back down. “That’s not why this is happening. This isn’t your fault, Stanley, don’t you ever think it’s your fault.” He stares at the ground. “I do need help.” He mutters, after a long period of silence. “Don’t know where the hell we’re going to get it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll go back to the multiverse.” You deadpan, flopping back on your pillow. “We went there enough for the hunting. Get you some therapy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ford laughs, like this is hilarious, and it’s a wonderful sound, but it still bothers you. “I’m serious, Poindexter.” You mutter, yawning. “I can’t solve everything that’s going on. All I can do is be your brother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s all I want from you, Stanley.” Ford yawns, swinging his legs over the bed. “That’s all I need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where you goin’?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To take a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>cold shower.” Ford grumbles. “That’s what I always do after. You’re lucky I didn’t show you today’s.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grabs the doorknob in a way that suggests he’s about to slam the door, and the yell gets caught in your throat, but it makes it out. “No, don’t!” You groan, and then softer. “Please. Come back. I want you right here tonight, Stanford.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need a shower.” He argues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You took one this morning.” You argue back, and you choose to ignore what that implies, holding out your arms. “C’mere. Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ford concedes--finally--and sits on the edge of your bunk, unlacing your shoes. Yours is bigger than his for this exact reason, so you pat the space towards the wall and he climbs over you. He </span>
  <span>is hardly lanky, but in your arms he always feels small, and you think it's because this is the only place in the entire world where he will let himself be fragile. He may be your older brother, but you will not let another moment go by for the rest of your lives where you don’t protect him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holding Ford is the most comforting thing in the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He puts his head on your chest and you wrap both arms around him and hold him tight, and then you do something that you very rarely do around him, despite the frequency of the visa versa; you cry into his shoulder, and about a minute later </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>starts crying and then you just cry together, and then you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I promise we will get through this, Sixer, I promise you, I will help </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then he cries some more while you stroke his hair until finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he is asleep on your chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You cannot help but think you’re a failure, you think blindly, staring up at his bottom bunk. But you suppose he cannot help but think he’s a freak for this, either, so maybe that just means you’re both in the wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re out like a light seconds after.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heya, all! Thanks for tuning in and experiencing me vomiting feelings onto the page, lmao.<br/>As with all the fics on my main, this is the part where I beg for comments. I really do love hearing from you guys and your feedback.</p><p>Be safe and well, all! &lt;3.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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